


a crush in three parts

by newtonartemis



Category: The West Wing
Genre: F/M, M/M, Second-Hand Embarrassment, and they will tease you mercilessly, first-hand embarrassment, inappropriate white house quickies, the women always know
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-31
Updated: 2018-08-31
Packaged: 2019-07-04 20:08:33
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,433
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15848466
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/newtonartemis/pseuds/newtonartemis
Summary: see you blowin' me a kiss, it doesn't take a scientist to understand what's goin' on baybeeee - crush, jennifer paige.





	a crush in three parts

 

_September 2006_

 

Helen hadn’t been this satisfied in months.

 

It was exhausting, all the talking and smiling and waving and talking and hand shaking and waving and smiling and smiling and smiling—

 

Even when they did spend the night together in some hotel room or another, by the time they’d showered and brushed their teeth and called the kids to say goodnight, they’d both be too exhausted.

 

Everyone had told her that their sex life would tank after marriage—that, she’d always thought smugly, had not even been a little bit true. Even after the kids, both of them, she had a spark with Matt that nothing had been able to put out.

 

She’d really thought that this campaign would be what snapped it for them but this perfect, perfect window—too jet-lagged from travel to sleep, just wired enough from the last big win to have millions of things to talk about and analyze and—

 

Well, the talking didn’t last all that long after all. And God, she _was_ ready to sleep now. Three solid hours of desperate, sweaty, intensity. Her body felt like hot liquid, muscles melting into the bed, as she stretched out and hummed in pleasure.

 

“God, babe—“

“That was—“

 

She turned her head to look at him, his droopy eyes and dopey smile, cheek smushed into the pillow, and they giggled at each other, neither one caring enough to finish whatever it was they were going to say. She turned to curled herself into his body, sighing into his chest. This worth another news cycle of broken bed frame jokes.

 

She felt Matt’s head craning up above her, no doubt to look at the digital clock on her side of the bed.

 

“Five A.M. Josh is gonna kill me when he finds out I didn’t sleep.”

 

Helen chuckled, “Kill you or burst a vein out of jealousy? Wait, no, what’s actually going on with him and Donna? Are they together after all? Ronna was telling me—“

 

“No, the kid’s too obsessive for a girlfriend. I mean, it’s great for me, means his head is always in the game. He’s out of his mind, sometimes I really wish I could see what goes on in that head of his, but he’s brilliant, there’s no denying that.”

 

“Sure, he’s a clever guy…”

 

“Did I tell you what he said to me that one time?” Matt asked, drawing her close to his chest as he rolled over onto his back. “That time he said, I’m not kidding, he said I was the smartest, most capable, most honorable guy there was for the job. Just… I was speechless. What do you say to something like that? How do you live up to that, someone who thinks that about you? I really think he was being serious, too, he’s not like that most of the time, but what in the world was he thinking to—“

 

“Babe, baby, babe—hey,” Helen says forcefully, shifting on top of him and pressing her hand to his chest. “Listen Matt, I’m fond of the kid too, but do we really need to make Josh Lyman a part of our post-coital pillow talk?”

 

Matt’s face is goes blank, stunned—just for a split second, long enough only for a wife to tell—and that’s how she knows. A smirk creeps across her face, while Matt’s switched into a hearty laugh, rolling her off his chest to face her side-on with that brilliant but false politician’s smile he’s perfected over the last several months.

 

“Oh, I’m sorry babe, you’re right, it’s just he says these things that are—well, you know, he’s just so—“

  
“Cute?”

 

“Yeah, and the way he makes you think he’s this doofus kid but somehow his head is running twenty different calculations at once and—wait, what?”

 

Helen is shaking her head, smiling but silent.

 

“Oh my god, babe.”

 

Matt looks frantic, like a kid whose parent has caught him snooping through the Christmas presents. “What?! I’m not—I didn’t—Jesus, he’s my campaign manager, Helen, that’s—what a crazy thing to—“

 

She places a hand firmly on his chest. “Babe, relax. Your heart’s going a mile a minute right now. I was just teasing.” She places a kiss on his nose, and his expression relaxes somewhat. She nestles into his side again, gives him a few moments of quiet, before,

 

“You do think he’s cute though?”

 

Matt groans, loudly, and not in the fun way. “Helen!”

 

“Wait, everything makes sense now,” she says, truly laughing now, “Some dopey boy shows up on our doorstep with a crazy theory and a few months later you’re running for President? Josh is _not_ that smooth and you’re not that gullible. I should have figured it was a crush,” Helen says gleefully, reaching for the pillow behind her and playfully swatting her husband with it.

 

Matt desperately grabs the pillow out of her hands and shoves his face in it.

 

Helen smiles, delighted at this new source of embarrassment she could exploit for teasing purposes. She reaches for his hand and lays a soft kiss on it, before rolling over to her side of the bed.

 

“Just make sure you watch your hands around him, Mr. Santos,” she chides playfully, wrapping herself in a hotel robe as she rises to pick up all the evidence of their long night before some staffer could barge in. “We don’t need the first Latino candidate for president also involved in a gay sex scandal.”

 

She hears a muffled sound from beneath the pillow—Matt pitifully muttering “bisexual”, no doubt—even from the depths of embarrassment he has to be right.

 

Helen chuckles, tossing a pair of ripped panties over towards her suitcase. “Or, well, if you do, at least make sure I get all the juicy details before the press.”

 

“This is why we don’t let you do more campaign events you know,” he grumbles, throwing the pillow at her.

 

“Oh why, because I’m going to spill all our sexy bedroom secrets?”

 

“Because you’re embarrassing,” he said, and Helen goes to sit down next to him, smiling down at him fondly. He smiles back, reaches up to cup her face and pull her into a tender kiss.

 

It was one second of sweet, perfect quiet—

 

Broken a moment later, of course, by an aggressive hammering on their door, and then—to Helen’s absolute delight—the insistently nasal voice of the man of the hour.

 

“Congressman? You in there?” Knock knock knock. “I let you sleep an extra half hour today, we really need you to uh, jump on this call with the donor, and you’ve got that 10 with Jacobs from the Times…” Knock knock knock. “Congressman? You up?”

 

Matt’s face went bright red, and Helen, predictably, burst out laughing.

 

 

* * *

 

 

 

_July 2007_

 

Donna and Josh had learned to communicate through glances, and Donna had a detailed catalogue of all the ways Josh looked at her. In meetings packed with staffers, or now, across the crowded hall where the White House was hosting a reception for the French ambassador and his wife, Donna and Josh could share a glance and know almost instantly what the other was thinking.

 

This look—a smile barely noticeable in his lips, but easily seen in the upturned corners of his eyes when they met hers across a room—told Donna two things:

 

1) God, he’s really in love with me.

2) He’s also probably really horny.

 

Ten minutes later, they were tripping into Josh’s office, giggling like crazy. The very rare, kind of boyish, halfway silent giggle when Josh was doing something fun, blowing off steam.

 

Like, trying to get a quickie in with Donna before the President gave his remarks at this reception.

 

“How have we never done this before?” Josh said, breathlessly, smiling like the devil as he shrugged his jacket off and began unbuttoning his vest

 

Donna paused, tilting her head. “Wait, you never did it in the White House before?”

 

She knew that’d make his jaw drop. Openly shocked Josh—that was one of her favorite looks.

 

“Donna!”

 

“What?” she said, smirking as she reached behind her back to pull the zipper of her dress down. “The President and Mrs. Santos do it here all the time.”

 

Josh blushed, looked away as he fumbled with his belt.

 

“Donna, oh my god.”

 

She kicked off her shoes, closed the space between them, sliding a hand down his pants to cup his hard-on.

 

“I guess it is his house, after all,” he croaked, frozen momentarily under Donna’s touch. Donna leaned into him, kissing his neck, palming him. Breaking away from her, he grabbed the shoulders of her dress and pulled it down to the floor, before wrapping his arms around her waist to push her up on his desk. He ran his palm over her panties—Donna tilted her head back, closed her eyes and moaned—she was already wet, but no time to take them off. He slid the fabric out of the way, pulled his cock out and pushed up into her.

 

“You know, if the President finds us…” he moaned into Donna’s neck, thrusting rhythmically.

 

Donna was holding on to a fist of his sleeve, her other hand clenched around the back of his neck. Well gone into the sensation, she likely wouldn’t even have noticed what he’d said, but he said it again—

 

“Mmm, fuck, Donna, you feel so good. God, if he finds us—if Santos—“ His thrusting had already become more erratic, but Donna had him well trained, and his finger was already circling her clit.

 

She watched his face as he pushed them both to the limit, over it. Even through the wave of pleasure that shot up her spine and made her shiver, right before Josh let himself release, she couldn’t help but look at his face. Slack-jawed, lips parted, eyes glossy—damn, _this_ one was a good look, Donna thought.

 

Finished, he pulled away from her with a sheepish but pleased smile on his face. He circled around the back of the desk rustled around in a few drawers.

 

“I swear I had a pack of tissues—shit. Um, let me check Margaret’s—uh, I mean Cindy’s desk,” Donna laughed to herself as Josh tripped into his pants, peeking into his secretary’s office and then rushing in, proceeding to throw the various drawers open and slam them shut _way_ louder than was smart.

 

“Come here and help me with my zipper,” Donna said, as she slipped her shoes back on. Josh ambled towards her, tucking his shirt in at the same time and offering her a tissue to finish cleaning up.

 

“Your hair’s a mess… he’s gonna know—I mean, everyone’s gonna know exactly what we were up to,” he comments, wrapping his arms around her waist and pulling their bodies together to press a kiss into her mussed hair.

 

“I’ll comb it, but Josh—“ Seriously, _three_ mentions of the President during a five minute quickie? It was… a noticeable ratio.

 

“He should be starting his remarks in—“ Josh looked down to check his watch, and Donna saw the look on his face turn from blissed-out to top-level panic. “Shit, he’s supposed to start in five! I’ll meet you out there,” he said, briefly checking his tie in the mirror—messing it up more, rather than fixing it—as he flung the door open and rushed out.

 

She found him a few minutes later, off to the side of the dais where the President standing next to the French ambassador. Mrs. Santos and Mrs. Ambassador were right behind them, as the President addressing the crowd with some general, tepid remarks about the two countries’ warm relationship. Josh was staring up at him, watching as attentively as a teacher’s pet. Donna thought she could still see the shadow of a smile on his face.

 

She sidled up behind him, pinched his butt. He jumped, but only a little, and nudged her as she took a place next to him.. But his eyes didn’t leave the President.

 

“That was fun,” she whispered, staring straight ahead as well, looking indisputably like a well-behaved and put-together employee.

 

“We gotta do that more often,” he whispered back, barely moving his mouth.

 

“Maybe,” she says. “If you can tone down how much you talk about him while we’re actually having sex.”

 

He actually turned to look at her after that, brow furrowed. Donna’s tone was teasing, hell, she was even smiling, but Josh actually looked offended.

 

“What? Talking about who?”

 

Donna nodded in the President’s direction.

 

Josh chuckled nervously, glancing back up at the President—proving her point exactly, Donna thought. “I didn’t—wait, that’s not fair, we’re at work, he’s my job, I—“

 

Donna smiled, shaking her head, and put a finger on Josh’s lips. It was more openly intimate than they’d ever been at work so far, and Donna couldn’t help enjoying how wide Josh’s eyes go.

 

“Don’t worry, Josh. I don’t really blame you, I mean—he’s _really_ handsome.”

 

Josh’s lips parted instantly, no doubt ready to vehemently protest, when all of a sudden, the President gestured towards Josh, turning every eye in the room on him.

 

“But of course, none of this would have been possible without my very own Chief of Staff Josh Lyman! He’s worked long and hard on this, he really deserves a round of applause everyone—“

 

And then everyone in the room was clapping, smiling politely at him and, most importantly—so is the President. Clapping, looking down at him warmly. _Affectionately_ , Donna would argue later. For now, she was clapping politely and smiling innocently at Josh, like everyone else. Josh, much to Donna’s delight, had gone a truly embarrassing shade of pink.

 

It was only a few moments—the applause died down, the President invited everyone to continue enjoying the drinks and the music—and the second it’s all over Donna has to clap a hand over her own mouth to contain herself.

 

“Oh my god, Josh, you totally have a crush on him!”

 

Josh glares at her in a way that Donna is sure he means to be withering, and he opens his mouth to really get into it this time, but he’s interrupted by the firm slip of President Santos’ palm against his back. Donna manages to keep a straight face, because she’s not a little bitch; Josh, meanwhile, looks like his soul has left his body.

 

“Ms. Moss,” the President says in that smooth, pleasant voice of his. “Sorry to pull this handsome guy away from you—just need him for a few minutes.”

 

Donna swallows, hard, so she can nod politely. “Of course, Mr. President.”

 

He gestures towards the back door. “Five minutes, Josh?” Josh only nods mutely as Santos strides away.

 

Donna, smug, and Josh, rattled, stand silently for a few moments. It’s risky, but Donna reasons they’ve gotta be well past worrying about that by now. She leans in, plants a friendly kiss on his cheek, and whispers, “Better not leave your new boyfriend waiting!”

 

She winks, and turns around to head towards the cocktail bar. It would ruin her exit to turn around at catch a glimpse of him, but she knows the look on his face has got to be priceless.

 

* * *

 

 

_December 2009_

 

This was intended to be a planning meeting. They were supposed to be going over the general schedule for the President and First Lady’s joint appearances once the re-election campaign really kicked off. It had taken two and a half weeks to arrange this 45-minute meeting, and Helen had had to cancel several of her own meetings to make it work.

 

So far, Josh and the President were fifteen minutes into a heated debate about the education bill.

 

Or, well, Josh was heated. He took everything personally and way too seriously. Matt was leaning back in his chair, arms crossed but smiling, as he played devil’s advocate. It was clearly just to enrage Josh, who was gesticulating and slamming his fist on the desk. Matt glanced over at her, winked. Helen could tell he was having a blast. And, to be fair, Helen was used to this, too. More than one date night had been held up because Josh had some policy question or another to yell about and Matt liked to smile and nod and needle him.

 

Still—there was work to be done, and honestly she’d rather be helping the kids with their math homework. She looked over at Donna, her ruthlessly efficient Chief of Staff, hoping to convince her to move this thing along, only to find her—doodling?

 

Helen tried catch what she was drawing without too obviously craning her neck. A… palm tree? A beach scene, maybe? She was a bit shocked, to tell the truth. She’d never seen Donna absent-minded in a meeting.

 

But then again… Helen scrutinized Donna’s face. It seemed like she was… smiling? And occasionally, when Josh slammed his fist or said “MISTER President” in that ridiculous tone, she seemed to chuckle, very quietly, and shake her head.

 

Oh. So she was used to this too. Helen pursed her lips, and began considering the scene more carefully.

 

A few minutes later, Matt had clearly decided they’d better get down to business, because all of a sudden they’re laughing, Josh looking like a pleased little boy with the President’s hand clapped on his shoulder.

 

“Sorry, ma’am,” Josh says to Helen, sheepish, and—wait a minute, Helen thinks, is he blushing? He ruffles through some papers in front of him. “Umm, let’s see, so we were thinking of starting back in Houston—“

 

“You’re looking at yesterday’s draft, Josh,” Donna says, snapping back into business mode. She reaches across the table and pulls the right paper out of the middle of the stack, laying it on top for Josh with a patient smile. He looks bashful. And _definitely_ pink in the cheeks, Helen notes.

 

“We’re starting in New Hampshire, it’s an event with President and Mrs. Bartlet,” she says, diving smoothly into the 10-point plan. In another 20 minutes she’s walked them through the major details, answered a few of the President’s questions and one of Helen’s. Helen should be paying more attention, but she’s distracted by the idea that Donna knew this would take less than 30, and only scheduled 45 because she’d known that Matt and Josh’s little pigtail-pulling show was bound to take place.

 

“Alright, then, I think that’s it! I’ll pass these changes on to advance so we can get the ball rolling! Thank you Mr. President, ma’am,” Donna says brightly.

 

Matt comes around the table to plant a kiss on Helen’s cheek. “We’ve got a quick meeting with the NSA director,” he says to her. “But I’ll be on time for dinner?” As he asks, he turns to look at Josh, who’s sweeping a mess of papers into his briefcase haphazardly.

 

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he says. He’s obviously distracted as hell, because Helen is _positive_ he just openly gave her husband the up-down.

 

She sees it all, after that. Josh’s frazzled, frantic energy; Matt’s lop-sided, bemused smile as he strides over the door, watching Josh stumble to reach the door before him so he can hold it open; but more importantly, Donna, clearly trying to keep a laugh to herself as she watches Josh.

 

And that’s how Helen knows. She knows because the way that Donna looks at Josh is exactly the way she looks at Matt when he’s neck deep into a rapturous speech about his Chief of Staff, right before he notices what she’s doing and tells her to “wipe that smug, know-it-all grin off your face.”

 

The door is halfway open and her husband already has one foot through it when Helen pipes up, loud enough for everyone to hear.

 

“Donna, why don’t you and Josh join us for dinner in the residence one of these days?”

 

There’s a beat of silence. Donna’s mouth drops momentarily. It’s a gambit, but if it pays off…

 

Helen sees Donna glance briefly at Josh whose face, to no one’s surprise, is white as a sheet.

 

And then the tell. Donna’s response does not come with a pleasant, polite, open smile—it’s a devious, conspiring grin.

 

“Oh, Mrs. Santos. We’d just _love_ to.”

 

Helen looks over at Matt, smiling innocently and delighting in the look of uncomprehending look of shock on his face. She waves as she and Donna turn as one toward the opposite door. “Great! Donna and I will look at the calendars, babe. See you later, Josh!”

**Author's Note:**

> apologies to user someplacelikebolivia for having to beta this and read my embarrassing attempt at sexy stuff.... actually, i'm more sorry I couldn't work in a proper Chief of "Staff" joke, but i am taking that comment under advisement for the future.


End file.
